Photo Albums

Noteworthy Photography

Burning Flags PressThe website of Glen E. Friedman. Renowned for both his work with musicians like Fugazi, Minor Threat, Public Enemy, the Beastie Boys, Slayer (and many, many more) as well as his groundbreaking documentation of the burgeoning skateboard phenomenon in the late `70's, Glen has been privvy to (and has summarily captured on film) some of the coolest stuff ever. He's also an incredibly insightful and nice guy to boot.

SoHo Blues - Photography by Allan TannenbaumAllan Tannenbaum is a local photographer who has been everywhere and shot everything, from members of Blondie hanging out at the Mudd Club through the collapsing towers of the World Trade Center on September 11th. You could spend hours on this site, and I have.

Robert Otter PhotographsAmazing vintage photographs of New York City, specifically my own neighborhood, Greenwich Village.

Big Laughs

The Weblog of Spumco's John K.The weblog of cartoonist John Kricfalusi, crazed mind and frantic pencil behind the original "Ren & Stimpy," as well as "The Goddamn George Liquor Show." Surreal, unapologetic, uncompromising genius.

July 13, 2018

This will matter to pretty much no one, but I'm going to go ahead and cite it anyway, because why not? It's my blog, etc.

I've spoken about it here a few times, but starting in about 1989, I started writing and performing editorial triage for a tiny, independent music mag here in New York called The New York Review of Records. I wrote about it at greater length on this post, if you genuinely care. It didn't really pay at all, and it never really took off, but I made a lot of great friends and connections out of it, learned a bunch of stuff and heard tons of great music from it as a result.

In any case, along the way, I was afforded the opportunity to regularly contribute content to the magazine, providing me with a multitude of bylines. That our distribution was piss-poor was another matter, but at least my stuff was getting published. That was a genuine bonus. As a result, I conducted numerous interviews with artists like Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, Wayne Hussey of the Mission UK, Andrew Eldritch of the Sisters of Mercy, Matt Cameron of Soundgarden, Shaun Ryder of the Happy Mondays, all four member of Sonic Youth and a slew of other folks. That was always pretty exciting. I also penned countless reviews of the albums of the day, unleashing my slavishly overwritten opinions in bona fide print.

In time, however, the NYROR and I started moving in different directions. I still wrote for them, but I needed a steady gig that actually paid. Eventually, I moved on to other things. At some point in the mid-90s, the New York Review of Records simply stopped publishing, and that was pretty much that.

Being that the magazine's overall impact was pretty damn modest, I'm always amused, these days, when I see its unlikely invocation here and there. As I mentioned back on that other post, I was pretty shocked to find that someone was trying to sell old issues of it on eBay, at one point. Actually, as of right now, someone is trying to pawn an issue of same for $25.00. See that Buzzcocks interview cited on the cover? That was one of mine.

Anyway, this long and needlessly winding preamble is basically all just to set-up that while I usually regard my involvement with the magazine as a pivotal experience, in the grand scheme of things, I believe the rest of the world regards it as something of a footnote, and that's being exceptionally generous. Imagine my gobsmacked surprise, then, when my ex-patriated Londoner pal Miles (you might remember him from this post) shot me the photo below...Click on it to enlarge.

In Joe Gross' new edition to the excellent 33 1/3 series about Fugazi's In on the Kill Taker, my review of same is actually quoted ... and before an invocation of Rolling Stone's review, no less. I thought that was somewhat remarkable. Hooray.

If I am being entirely candid, however, I have the sneaking suspicion that I may have liberally helped myself to the colorful flourish "brutal stride" from another source, albeit not one regarding the merits of Fugazi. It's a descriptor that certainly applies to this album's tightly-wound, frenetic battery, so I can see why I might have chosen to borrow it, but I do not think I can claim its true provenance as my own. While I cannot be sure, twenty-five years after the fact, I feel remiss for appropriating it (if that's indeed what I did).

June 29, 2018

Millennials, by and large, are blithely incurious and have no taste, amIright?

See, I’m trying not to be the “get off my lawn” guy that makes sweeping, disparaging generalizations like that, but it does seem to get harder and harder, given the state of contemporary popular culture, such as it is. I just can't get behind the particular content and “talent” the afore-cited generation cites as crucially significant. Sorry, but in a world where every damp fart from Kanye West is treated like breaking news, it’s difficult not to be deeply disdainful.

Enter Andi Harriman.

A thirty-something writer, in-demand club DJ and “goth scholar” from Brooklyn-via-Virginia, Harriman is far --- nay, HELL AND GONE, -- from your average millennial. Rarely to be seen not immaculately decked-out in the suitably funereal finery of her chosen subculture, Harriman would not have looked even remotely out of place in 1984, stalking the dancefloors of Danceteria or scrutinizing the imports and Cure bootlegs at Second Coming Records on Sullivan Street. Were it still the 90’s, Harriman’s natural habitats would surely have been Communion night at the Limelight or the Mission on Avenue B. But while those locales and ventures have all since vanished, their essence lives on and preternaturally walks among us in the embodiment of Andi Harriman. She is a woman out of time.

Her story reminds me a tiny bit of David McDermott, a visual artist/filmmaker/photographer whose lifestyle and work are singularly defined by a flat refusal to embrace the historical present. As such, since at least the early `80s, McDermott has dressed like an erudite late-19th century gentlemen. You can see him chatting with Jean-Michel Basquiat in Glen O’Brien’s “Downtown 81,” dressed in spats, bowler hat and a detachable collar. “I’ve seen the future,” he’s been quoted as saying, “and I’m not going.” You can check out more about the man here.

Much like McDermott, Harriman’s detour from the present is more than simply a tonsorial and sartorial appropriation. As I’ve laboriously warned here on Flaming Pablum over the past thirteen years, if I spot you sporting a t-shirt emblazoned with a band I rate, you best be prepared for me to accost you and quiz you on the specifics of your fandom. But were I to march up to Ms. Harriman and interrogate her over her Skinny Puppy t-shirt, she’d likely turn around and school my unsolicitedly pedantic ass on the finer points of the Canadian industrial trio’s macabre discography. She may be young, but she’s no dilettante.

(Photo courtesy of Seze Devres)

If there’s one common thread Harriman does share with the rest of her age-group, it’s her driving ambition. Taking her nascent fascination not just with all things Goth, but with adjacent subsets like post-punk, synth-pop and industrial, Harriman completed her immersion with an academic approach. In 2014, her extensive research and deeper dive culminated with the publishing of her first magisterial book, “Some Wear Leather, Some Wear Lace: The Worldwide Compendium of Postpunk and Goth in the 1980s.” Beyond this impressive endeavor, she’s expounded on the subject for a wide variety of outlets, and also channels her passion for her arguably anachronistic aesthetics as a sought-after DJ, spinning variants of her favorite music – old and new – for both the old guard and a new crop of black-clad acolytes. Once again, Harriman walks it like she talks it.

Having first encountered her on social media, by way of my usual circles of otherwise grizzled rock-journo types, and having been a sullen teenaged fan of all this same stuff myself (my 1987 passport picture finds me frowning under a floppy fringe and sporting a Bauhaus t-shirt), I decided to reach out to Ms. Harriman to see if she would be game to subject herself to a Flaming Pablum interview (joining the august ranks of RB Korbet of Even Worse, Big Paul Ferguson of Killing Joke, Chris Egan of Missing Foundation and a few others). I was curious as to how her manifestation as a preeminent goth scholar came to be … or if, much like Catherine Deneuve’s character in Tony Scott’s “The Hunger,” she really has been here since 1984, and is simply an immortal vampire.

Here's what she had to say.

Flaming Pablum: First up, I’m not going to ask you how old you are, being that it’s none of my business, it’s vaguely inappropriate and might only reinforce lazy ageist preconceptions. That said, it does seem a bit like you slipped through a crack in the space/time continuum and made some sort of quantum leap directly from 1985 to 2018. While most individuals of your perceived age are listening to mush-mouthed ersatz-hip hop by clowns like Lil Pump, Lil Peep, Lil Xan, you are credibly versed in the music and accompanying subcultures from three or four decades prior. This cannot have happened by accident. How did you manage to cultivate this appreciation, let alone with such loving depth?

ANDI HARRIMAN: I can credit all of this to my childhood. I grew up in a very religious family and was only allowed to listen to the soft rock station on the radio... this means all your 80s pop hits like Phil Collins, Heart, Journey. On top of being an incredibly nostalgic person -- even nostalgic for times I never experienced -- 1980s music, specifically that synthesizer sound, became a part of me. Music truly became my only friend (with the exception of my Victorian novels, which I accredit to my verbose style of writing and my tendency to romanticize things) while growing up in a small town in the mountains of southwest Virginia -- an isolated area where I found myself, at most times, unable to make connections with others. I developed social anxiety in high school and was unable to leave my house and venture to the store, or anywhere else, alone. It was music that helped me to cope with that anxiety and what kept me company (this is still true today).

I've always been that outsider and somehow "outsider" music found me. I saw The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" on TV and fell in love with Robert Smith and his red lipstick. That took me to buy Kiss Me on CD, leading me to the one band that absolutely developed my life's path, Depeche Mode. And I've always had an obsessive personality and that sort of darker 1980s music threw me into post-punk and goth. And it never left -- it only developed as I ingested everything I could about its music and subculture. A major moment in my life was the "Gothic: Dark Glamour" exhibition at FIT here in New York City in 2008 curated by my hero, fashion theorist Valerie Steele. This exhibition -- full of clothes, accessories, memorabilia -- helped me realize that I could pursue goth as a subject of study. It didn't seem like a possibility until then.

Luckily, I'm quite self motivated. When I get an idea or concept, I usually don't allow obstacles to deter my plan too much.

I think the point I was most impressed by was that even though you had an innate affinity for the aesthetics of “Goth,” you took an academic approach to it, tracing it back to its roots ----- the music of the post-punk era. While “Goth,” like “Punk” before it has been arguably misappropriated and somewhat de-fanged by the mainstream vernacular, you knew there was much more to it than simply dressing like an undertaker. You immersed yourself in the minutia. No one could ever accuse you of being a dilettante about it. As a result, it seems to have gone onto enhance and inform your identity. What started as research has turned into your lifestyle -– is that a fair characterization? What’s it like being a Goth Scholar in 2018, let alone such a youthful one?

I believe that's a pretty fair assessment, though it was always the music for me. I initially didn't realize there was a whole aesthetic to go along with the music. This might seem naive now, but the only sort of "goths" I had known in high school were Slipknot and Marilyn Manson fans. It felt special to realize that, in fact, there were others out there who loved the same things as me -- and I still find this comforting. But as I immersed myself into the music I found the fashion to be so elegant and aesthetically pleasing to me. And, yes, over the years its certainly become a lifestyle for me... which I think it's supposed to do for anyone who finds a scene where they belong. What I found most intriguing about the original goths was their commitment to the subculture, their complete immersion into all aspects of it. I found that admirable and want to continue in that tradition, one of which seems to get lost with the fast pace of society today. I have some friends who are much more visually "goth" than I am, and I love the devotion that still exists today. It's so inspiring! I don't find it completely necessary to have standards for goth fashion, but I think anyone who is immersed in the subculture finds ways to sneak that aesthetic into their everyday look.

What I've done in terms of lecturing and writing (or "scholaring") has been a great experience. I've found goths and goth-adjacents want a different sort of experience than simply going to clubs and having online conversations. People want to participate in ways that aren't so common - the communal aspect of a group at a lecture is pretty special, actually.

What do you consider the biggest preconception about you, given your status as a Goth Scholar?

One problem I originally had was that I couldn't possibly know enough about the subculture to be a writer on the subject. It's a criticism that many people gave without reading "Some Wear Leather, Some Wear Lace," a book built upon the hundreds of interviews I conducted with original goths from the 1980s. That's disappeared for the most part, given that I've remained a writer on goth and dark music. However, it's important for me to stress that I've never claimed to know everything, and I'm always happy to find myself in the position of the student instead of the teacher -- I love learning, listening, and discovering new things on the subject.

Tell me a little bit about Synthicide. How long have you being doing that?

Synthicide grew out of my dissatisfaction of the dark electronic scenes here in NYC -- there were way too many boundaries and lines drawn between genres. At the time, nearly 5 years ago, it was rare to blend variations of techno with 80s electronic music such as industrial, EBM, and new beat. That's changed a lot since, but I like to think Synthicide has been the only consistent party with this specific goal in mind -- that is, to bridge the gaps and introduce people to music they might actually enjoy. It started out as a Sunday evening happy hour at Bossa Nova Civic Club, a techno club that had just opened just months before, and one year later Synthicide transformed into a monthly Thursday night party. It's now grown into a community and I've put out a compilation with another to come out soon. I like to think of it as a club night that focuses on giving artists and DJs that might not otherwise have a platform, a place to grow - as well as a place for misfits to dance and socialize without judgement (and listen to some really great music selections and performances all the while).

If it can be distilled to a single piece of music, what song set you off on your particular path?

Quite a question, but if I'm forced to pick just one song, it would be "Disintegration" by The Cure. That song alone got me out of some particularly bad moments in my life. It became my goal to give back to the music as a thank you for saving me when I was at my lowest.

I had to look this up! The quote says: “Honestly, I want to say goth pretty much died out around 2005 [or] 2006,” he explained. “Really, what the goth community was, it was all about the music. And unfortunately, due to the lack of new goth music coming it, it’s sort of metamorphosized into sort of like a, I guess you could say, like a style.”

He is incredibly wrong but also right. The goth subculture has certainly not died out. One, if you measure the scene by Wave Gotik Treffen (the world's largest goth festival held in Leipzig, Germany) alone, it's thriving. But also, I've been reflecting lately on the development of the subculture in the 2010s and I would say that since 2013 or so, the scene began to grow once again after a bit of a hiatus (maybe it could have been 2005/6, which is why the quoter used those years specifically). As a subculture we are in a special moment where there's quality music being released pretty steadily and there's interest in older bands touring. Off the top of my head I can think of Siglo XX, Trisomie 21, 13th Chime, Skeletal Family, and Clan of Xymox as bands I never thought I would see who are now touring and are well received all over the world. So I find this a terribly wrong assessment in terms of why "Bats Day" has ceased.

However, goth has morphed into a style that is easily appropriated. With the technology of today, anyone can be an "expert" on the subject without truly knowing or understanding the very foundation of goth. That includes ripping off the style of goth without actually participating in the subculture. Participation is also a huge part of being a goth: going to shows, buying records, supporting artists of all kinds. It's harder these days for local scenes to exist because of the internet - it's easy to not go out to see the band or DJ play, everyone is short on cash, we are all strapped for time. So perhaps that's why "Bats Day" had to fold, but it's not fair to say "goth died out" -- it didn't, there's just more shit to shovel through.

Beyond your DJ gigs, what’s next for you?

Finding time to work on my books. I'm also working on some shows here in NYC for the fall and some lectures/panels outside of the city.

What artists are you currently into – contemporary or otherwise?

I believe I am in the sad man post-punk stage of my life wherein I'm listening to mostly Comsat Angels, The Chameleons, Asylum Party, Snake Corps, and Pink Turns Blue (as I sit here listening to Sad Lovers & Giants). But, in terms of more contemporary stuff, Selofan consistently impresses me with their music - I've been giving their new LP Vitrioli a listen. But there's been so much amazing music out this year already - Kontravoid's Undone and Qual's The Ultimate Climax have been my favorites so far.

From the perspective of someone who got into bands like Theatre of Hate, the Sisters of Mercy/The Mission, Bauhaus, Fields of the Nephilim, the March Violets, Alien Sex Fiend et al. in their teens and twenties, the term “Goth” hasn’t always been an easy one. As a devoted student of the subject, you may have more light to shed on this, but the descriptor itself was initially coined by journalists, and not really with the intention of flattery. I’m reminded of the similar tag “shoegazer” from the 90’s -– initially a pejorative penned by cheeky rock critics to connote the alleged lack of stage-presence in bands like Ride, Lush and Chapterhouse. Fast-forward a decade, and you have bands proudly calling themselves shoegazers. Many of the torchbearers of Gothic music (some cited above and scores more) actually resent the term -- Eldritch is notoriously wary of the word. What’s your take?

In terms of musicians hating being called goth, I believe it could be because of the "limitations" it puts on their artwork - no one likes to be put in a box. I also find it comical that goth's most influential characters do happen to hate the term so much. I would agree that some facets of the subculture are not like the traditional goth - and they are not to my liking either - so I could understand a musician's desire to not want to be categorized into goth as a whole. "Goth" wasn't a term until the late 1980s, and perhaps that connotation to artists who were around much earlier than the mid-to-late part of the decade, when this type of music found mainstream success, find it a lazy way to categorize their sound and artistic endeavors.

But I find it interesting the word is currently at this intersection of both being glorified and misunderstood (as it always has been). Dressing "goth" - in all black, dark lipstick, all the surface level indicators of the word - is rampant throughout mainstream fashion. It's cool to look edgy, to have that level of mystery, and to call yourself goth. So its interesting that goth is misinterpreted and overused as an adjective for an OOTD or a seasonal look. It causes the word to become diluted - thus, the original depth of the term is lost. It's much too easy to fake being a goth these days...

Given my own predilections, I am obligated to put this question by you with all respect that our perspectives may differ: Killing Joke – Goth Not Goth?

I would certainly say goth-adjacent. Their music is often played at goth parties and, goddamn, Brighter Than a Thousand Suns is one heart-wrenching work of art. Also Geordie's guitar work became the blueprint for what we recognize as the classic post-punk sound, thus directly or indirectly influencing dark genres to follow.

June 11, 2018

Les Halles on Park Avenue South, where Anthony Bourdain famously worked as a chef, has been closed since 2016, and the space it once occupied has been dormant since shuttering in March of that year.

Since news broke on Friday of Bourdain's passing, mourners have been leaving flowers, notes and mementos in a makeshift memorial. My kids' school is a couple of blocks away. After dropping them off this morning, I looped back around to the former Les Halles to take a look.

June 08, 2018

It pains me that apart from a few passing allusions to the man, I only really devoted one single post to Anthony Bourdain in this blog’s almost-thirteen-year existence, that post being a cheekily petty potshot at him for supporting a fellow chef’s dubiously named (and since shuttered) venture. In all truth, Anthony Bourdain was a bona fide hero of mine. His style was the perfect blend of smart, funny, cool, discriminating and outspoken, and he was a master storyteller and, obviously, pretty handy in the kitchen. Beyond being cool, funny and insouciant, he wrote from the heart, spoke truth to power and was a frequent champion of the underdog. He was a tireless advocate for doing, seeing and trying new things and broadening horizons. News of his suicide, this morning, completely took the wind out of my sails. I’m sure I’m not alone, in that capacity.

Like most, I first came across Bourdain via his now-iconic culinary tell-all, “Kitchen Confidential” at some point in the `90s. While a great read by any standard, having toiled for several summers as a dish-dog in the rear kitchen of the Westhampton iteration of The Barefoot Contessa (long gone), I immediately warmed to not only Bourdain’s acerbic wit, but could completely relate to the context. He captured the dynamic perfectly, but also lifted the veil on a whole culture. Dare I suggest it, Anthony Bourdain –- more so than any other so-called “celebrity chef” -– single-handedly made working in the food industry credibly cool.

His star continued to ascend from there, of course, and I was totally onboard. I dutifully dined in homage at Les Halles on Park Avenue South (his former employer), and followed his trajectory like a fanboy, snapping up each successive book of essays, and even his first weighty cookbook. I even picked up his first crime novel, which was just as entertaining as you’d expect. Shortly afterwards, television snatched him up and he was off and running on a number of different series for various channels until he landed the gig at CNN.

And now, he’s gone. This larger-than-life character who seemed to lead such a singularly charmed, remarkable life, and who spoke so candidly and eloquently, and with such a zest for experience -– takes his own life. It is yet another testament, let alone in the same week as fashion favorite Kate Spade, that we should not be so quick to trust our preconceptions. Fame is clearly no panacea for depression.

As I noted when Chris Cornell of Soundgarden took his own life last year, the knee-jerk reaction upon hearing about such fatalities is “how could they have done this to their own children?” That unanswerable question might lead many to label the act callous and selfish, but as far as I’m concerned, it only underscores the magnitude of the pain the individual must have been in to pursue that otherwise unthinkable path.

I don’t know why Anthony Bourdain killed himself. As much as we all may feel like we knew him, we cannot begin to speculate what he was privately grappling with. I grieve for his loved ones and hope that he has attained peace and realizes how very much he will be missed.

June 07, 2018

May 18, 2018

I treated myself to this large, signed print of John Holmstrom’s first cover for PUNK Magazine when I learned I’d gotten the job I now hold, and I proudly framed it and hung it in my office. It managed to come into my possession after I asked about it at a 2015 PUNK retrospective at the Howl Gallery off the Bowery on 1st street, and they had it signed for me and sold it to me for a way more manageable price than I probably deserved.

In a single image, it celebrates so many things I’m besotted with –- Lou Reed, the Ramones, CBGB, Legs McNeil’s writing, John Holmstrom’s artwork, NYC punk rock -– to my mind, it is a perfect encapsulation of that cultural moment and that era.

Earlier this week, a colleague of mine was standing in my doorway, staring at it. After a long pause, she delivered a line that I somehow cannot unhear, suggesting it didn’t so much resemble the former leader of the Velvet Underground so much as another notable Brooklyn native.

May 11, 2018

I've mentioned him here before (more recently here), but my friend Mike Joyce (no, not the former drummer for the Smiths) is a graphic artist whose most high-profile project was Swissted, wherein he reimagined gig posters from various punk, new wave, hardcore and indie bands in the bold, colorfully angular discipline of International Typographic Style. I'm doing a crap job of describing it, so go to his site, check it out and buy a bunch of shit, because it's entirely cool.

In any case, I recently discovered this clip that animates Mike's work. Check it out....

April 12, 2018

Some quick fruition, then on my quest from earlier in the week. Two readers weighed in with helpful info about the elusive shot of Sonic Youth posing in front of Old St. Patrick's on Mott Street. A reader named Skip tipped me off that the photo in question appears on page 97 of a book/cd package published back in the 90's called "I Dreamed of Noise," a gent named Chris sent me the actual photo. Here it is below. My kids' unwitting tribute to same is above.

April 06, 2018

Back when I was still firing on all cylinders on the now otherwise dormant Cop Shoot Cop coffeetable book (hey, it might still happen), I managed to track down the "cover star," if you will, from 1993's Ask Questions Later album (that being the screaming, stick-wielding kid). Through intel provided by Jack Natz, it turns out that the child in question -- named Crosby -- was the progeny of some particularly noteworthy Lower East Siders and artists who were friends of the band. "He loved it," said Natz, back in November of 2016, of young Crosby's time during the album-cover shoot, "he absolutely fucking loved it. But, at the time he was doing it, he didn't realize he was up for hours of grueling work. He thought it was just going to be one photograph. So, when he's swinging that stick, he was all 'get this over with!'"

Turns out it was also Crosby who reprised his role as the feral, the stick-wielding moppet in the video for "Room 429," directed by transgressive cinema titan, Richard Kern. I managed to track Crosby down shortly afterwards. Today, he's an artist in his own right. A self-described "Surrealist Clockmaker," Crosby designs and makes by hand some truly striking clocks of a variety that you're sure as shit not about to find at your local Basics Plus. In his own words, these works of art both tell the time and "challenge ideas about disposability, longevity and reputation, while exploring the consumption of celebrity." Cool stuff.

In our protracted correspondence, I asked Crosby if it ever occurred to him to make a clock out of his own face circa Ask Questions Later.